


In Case of Emergency

by swwf17



Series: We Should Come with a Warning [3]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Family Feels, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swwf17/pseuds/swwf17
Summary: In which smol Alex is basically Kari from The Incredibles. Special guest appearances by the Super Friends via framing device!





	In Case of Emergency

“What is _this?”_

That Spring Cleaning has become a group affair is entirely to blame on Kara’s insistence that the Super Friends haven’t been spending nearly enough time together. Winn and James _agree,_ of course, but they’d honestly prefer something like…mini-golf, or maybe trying out the new Italian place down on Third.

But, no. Spring Cleaning it is. For _some_ reason.

(Neither mentions the cardboard box with large, angry Kryptonian text in thick black marker scrawled on the side, sitting in the hallway and filled to the brim with the personal effects of one recently relocated Daxamite prince.)

“That’s a box, Winn,” Kara teases him, easily moving the bookshelf (books, knick-knacks and all) back where it belongs as James gathers up the chord to the vacuum.

“Har har,” Winn rolls his eyes and hoists the box from its hiding place, “I noticed, thanks. And I _also_ noticed _this,”_ he pivots the box so that both James and Kara can read the label.

In wide, messy letters, the words: KARA KIT stare back at them.

James tilts his head to the side as Kara’s mouth drops open.

“That—it's—”

“Ooooh, now I’m curious,” James follows Winn to the kitchen table, where he deposits the box and begins pulling on the cardboard flaps. “Hey, man. Wait for Kara to say it’s okay.” Winn pulls his hands back sheepishly. “You’re gonna say it’s okay, right? You gotta say it’s okay.” There’s a light, teasing quality to his voice, though Kara knows if she were to tell them _no,_ they’d both leave it be.

Oh, they would whine, certainly. But they would respect her wishes.

“I don—” she begins to say, but the front door opens, interrupting her.

It’s Alex, who comes bearing pizza and the promise of two more visitors, once Maggie and M'gann get off work.

“Dude, gross, get the dusty boxes off the table, come on,” Alex nods towards the item in question, and punches Winn’s shoulder.

“Do you know about this?” James points at the box and turns it so that Alex can read the writing.

Kara watches the exchange, and feels a mighty groan coming on.

Because Alex grins slowly, setting the pizza aside.

“Ooooh yeah I do,” she says, “I _made_ it.”

“I’m sensing a story,” Winn declares, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and gracelessly maneuvering a cheesy slice of pizza onto a paper plate. (Since all of the _actual_ plates are…missing in action. Thanks to Spring Cleaning.)

“Come on,” Kara protests feebly, though she still joins the trio on the couch, swiping a mere _three_ slices as opposed to her usual five. “Alex. _No.”_

James grins and pats Alex’s shoulder.

“Alex, _yes.”_

* * *

Alex was fourteen, and growing to hate the phrase, _keep an eye on her._

 _Keep an eye on her_ meant Saturday nights spent at home, because _no way_ was she taking her alien sister to the movies to hang out with her friends.

 _Keep an eye on her_ meant perfect waves, _wasted_ , because Kara was doing something _weird_ and she had to paddle back to shore and put an end to it.

 _Keep an eye on her_ meant risking grievous injury on numerous occasions, because the alien invader had all this superhuman power pent up in her per-pubescent frame, and absolutely _zero_ means of controlling it.

“Keep an eye on her, sweetie,” her mom said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. “We’ll be back later tonight.”

“Ugh, _come on,”_ Alex grumbled under her breath. Kara pretended like she couldn’t hear, which would have been funny, if Alex didn’t find it so _annoying_. “She’s like, thirteen. She can look after herself.”

Her mom’s hand wavered over the doorknob.

“Alex…why don’t you…come out to the car, real quick,” she said with forced patience. And Alex had to bite back more grumbling, because _great,_ now she was going to get a lecture on top of it all.

(It was her own fault, she knew.)

They walked out to the car, passing the small yet noticeable chunk of missing driveway from where Kara caught her foot and tripped last week, and the patch of burnt sod from a heat-vision mishap.

“Alex,” her mom started to say, taking a deep breath. Alex braced herself for the worst, fists clenching at her sides and shoulders going stiff. “ _Please.”_

Well. Alex certainly hadn’t been expecting… _that_. Nor was she prepared for the desperate exhaustion in her mother’s voice. “ _Please_ just look after your sister for a few hours.”

There was something about the way her mom’s coat hung on her shoulders—like it was suddenly too heavy for her, too much to bear. She was slumped inside it, weary and winded.

Alex thought about how stressful it was, suddenly having to share a bedroom with an alien.

It never really occurred to her that it might be just as stressful, suddenly becoming that alien’s parent.

“Yeah, whatever,” Alex said, unable to drain _all_ the sulking from her tone, but apparently it was enough to appease her mom.

“Thank you,” she said with what sounded like a grateful sigh. She unlocked the car and climbed in, reminding Alex of emergency numbers and which neighbors would be more apt to help, should they need it.

“Not the Stanfords…they’re still angry about the window incident.”

“'Kay.”

“Mrs. Jimenez should be fine—or, no, wait…the fence—”

“Mom,” Alex said, cutting her off. “We won’t need help. It’s like. Three hours. Barely.”

“Never hurts to be safe.”

“Bye, mom.”

“And remember—”

“ _Bye, mom,”_ Alex called over her shoulder, not quite stomping back to the house…more like. Walking with _purpose_.

Kara was, unsurprisingly, exactly where Alex left her, still pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

“I thought the glasses were supposed to keep you from doing that,” Alex said, stalking towards the couch. She absently brushed the inside of her forearm, the pads of her fingers registering the raised line of skin.

Kara picked at the hem of her sweater.

“Um. Stop me from doing what?” she tried to play innocent.

“I know you heard,” Alex said flatly.

Kara slumped. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Alex sighed. “It never is.”

She fell back on the couch and fumbled for the remote, turning the TV on and flicking  to one of the movie channels. Kara took a seat on the far end of the couch, reaching for one of the throw pillows as she did so.

(The throw pillow in question was threadbare and lumpy—a fairly recent development that seemed to coincide with the arrival of an alien who liked to twist it out of its shape whenever she was anxious or simply unsure of what to do with her hands.)

“Are…” Kara started, “…are you gonna watch a movie?”

“Maybe,” Alex shrugged, the heat gone from her voice. She was too tired to stay mad right now. She just wanted to tune out for a bit, watch some mindless TV. “…Yeah. Probably. Can you get the—” there was a blur of movement and some of the loose papers on the end table fluttered to the floor, only to skitter across the room as Kara came speeding back in. She slowed, but not quick enough, feet tangling in the rug as she came to a stop.

She stumbled, of course, and though Alex wasn’t concerned for _Kara’s_ safety (Kara would be _fine_ , after all; Kara could hit a brick wall at mach ten and emerge unscathed) but she _was_ concerned for the vase Kara knocked over on her way down.

It landed with a loud crash, splitting into several large pieces upon impact.

So familiar a sight it was, however, that Alex just groaned in exasperation and made her way to the kitchen on auto-pilot. She bypassed the broom and dustpan, instead heading to the junk drawer, intent on locating some crazy glue.

(Once upon a time, the Danvers replaced the items Kara broke. It soon became apparent that such a habit would be too costly to maintain. Thus, crazy glue and duct tape were never in short supply, it seemed.)

Alex tugged the drawer open, and frowned. The spot _usually_ occupied by the blue and orange tube was bare, save for a few bent paperclips.

So Alex headed for the study instead, quietly fuming the whole way. _She_ was going to get in trouble for this. Somehow. Some way. She would get the blame.

She found a spare tube in one of the drawers in her dad’s desk, and returned to the living room. Kara was still there, kneeling beside the ruined vase. “Sorry, sorry!” She was apologizing profusely as she gathered the shards and attempted to fit them back together like puzzle pieces. “I didn’t think—I didn’t mean to run. Really. I just…I wanted to be _quick_ , and my feet kind of—”

“I know, Kara. Just…gimme that,” Alex said, reaching for the pieces. Kara obeyed mutely, handing them over, and watching with sad, sheepish eyes as Alex tried to fix the vase. Like a scolded puppy.

“Did you get the TV guide, at least?” Alex asked after a frustrating eight minutes of slotting the ceramic into place.

Kara handed over the rumpled newspaper insert. Alex put the (now lopsided and sticky) vase back on the end table to dry, and flipped through the pages. Kara curled up on the end of the couch, eyes downcast, pillow twisted out of shape in her lap.

Traitorous sympathy rose in Alex’s chest, storming in like an uninvited guest. She was _almost_ moved to offer some words of reassurance and comfort.

But then her eye was caught by one of the movies in the eight PM timeslot.

The sympathy vanished, displaced by a sort of scheming mischievousness.

“I know what we’re gonna watch,” Alex said, grabbing the remote once more. “Okay?”

And Kara…sweet, naive, eager-to-please Kara, just nodded.

“Okay.”

* * *

For a while, the plan worked perfectly.

Because all Alex wanted to do, really, was give Kara a bit of a hard time. Mess with her. Make her sweat a little, to make up for being such a pain. (Unintentional, sure, but a pain nonetheless.)

The _Jurassic Park_ movies weren’t even all that _scary_. They were tame, compared to some of the other stuff Alex had seen. So Kara squirmed a little, hid behind the pillow one or two times, but mostly tried to put on a brave face and make like she was enjoying this.

“Liking it so far?” Alex asked with a smirk.

“Y-yeah,” Kara lied.

It was like that for a good portion of the movie.

Until.

(Alex should’ve known, and yet. Could not have known. Because Kara never told her.

Never explained what animals looked like on Krypton; what form of strange beasts plagued the inhabitants of Argo, or…Kandor…or wherever it was that Kara was from.)

Kara was already wound pretty tight, eyes wide and reluctantly fixed on the screen. Alex, of course, knew the film by heart. (Knew _both_ films by heart, even if she thought the sequel was kind of lame—Lex and Tim were in it for like, _two seconds,_ and no Dr. Grant or Sattler. What was the _point?_ )

Alex could see the rigid fix of Kara’s spine, pressed as far back into the couch cushion as it would allow.

The characters crept along on screen. The music died off. Sound effects tapered off almost completely.

Alex looked askance.

The T-Rex burst through the foliage.

Kara _yelled._

“SNAGRIFF.”

There was a flash of light as Kara’s heat vision went off, momentarily sending dark spots across Alex’s vision before she turned away, shielding herself from the bright blue beam. There was a fizzling sort of POP that followed, and a dull roar. Alex lowered her arm and stared at where the TV used to be, now just a smolder heap of ruined plastic and wires and flames.

_Flames._

“Kara!” Alex yelped, jumping over the back of the couch. “Kara, use the—put out the—do the super-breath thing!” her voice cracked with panic.

And Kara. Kara _tried_. But she was clearly freaking out, and Alex could see that the glasses weren’t sitting straight on her ears—could see that a dozen different sounds were filtering past her weak defenses. So when she went to put out the fire…she missed.

She missed, and froze the arm chair.

Alex let out an unintelligible shout of frustration. She’d have to deal with this _herself_. “ _Damn it!”_

Alex scrambled out of the living room, tripping over herself as she ran to the kitchen, fumbling with the cupboard beneath the sink.

 _Water, water,_ she repeated over and over in her mind until it occurred to her that they had no _bucket_ and this sort of situation called for a _fire extinguisher, duh._

By now, the smoke alarm had gone off, high-pitched beeping filling the house.

Alex didn’t bother with shutting the cupboards, she just ran for the garage, cursing the fact that the fire extinguisher was _so far away_. Why wasn’t it like. Inside the _house?!_

She nearly missed the four stairs leading down into the garage, and managed to catch herself before turning her ankle on the bottom step. She kicked aside cardboard boxes and all but fell onto the metal shelving unit against the far wall, hands running over an assortment of spray paint, camping gear, and  Turtle Wax ( _so_ much Turtle Wax— _why did they have so many bottles?!_ They didn’t even wash the car that often!) before brushing against the cool, slightly worn metal cylinder.

She tucked the extinguisher under her arm and tore back into the house, back towards the fire, and was quietly amazed that the room wasn’t engulfed in flames. (To her mind, it hadn’t taken five years to get the fire extinguisher; in actuality, the adrenaline had her there and back in mere _minutes_ , if even that.)

 _Pin. Pin. Pin is a thing._ She fumbled with it, eyes reading and yet not reading the directions for use. She recalled an incident one summer with some illegal fireworks in the backyard, her dad’s patient explanation somehow piercing through the rising hysteria.

_Pull the pin and aim at the base of the fire._

She did so with shaking hands, watching with sweet, sweet relief as the sodium bicarbonate did its job.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, smothering the flames. Probably longer than necessary, really. It was with obvious reluctance that she finally took a step back and ceased the spraying.

With the fire out, and the extinguisher dangling in her grip at her side, the room was filled with only the sound of her ragged breathing, and the smoke alarm.

The sustained beeping was all she could think about, all she could focus on. It was hard to decide if the ringing in her head was from the alarm or just her ears, maybe. Eventually, her brain started formulating coherent thoughts.

And of course, the first and foremost of those thoughts:

_Kara._

Her eyes darted around the room, but Kara wasn’t there— _hadn’t_ been there during Alex’s frantic attempts at flame suppression, had been missing since Alex had yelled for her to put out the flames with the…they needed to think of a better name than ‘super breath.’

So she wasn’t in the living room. She wasn’t in the entryway either. She didn’t remember seeing her in the kitchen…

“Kara!” Alex shouted, charging up the stairs. She probably didn’t _need_ to yell, but it felt appropriate, given the current circumstances. “Kara, where— _oomf.”_

And suddenly there she was, arms wrapped around Alex’s middle, face buried against her shoulder, crying into her sweatshirt. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry._

Alex sank to her knees, and Kara followed (not like she had much choice) and Alex found herself hugging Kara back, sort of folded around her sister’s smaller frame.

“No,” she muttered, “ _I’m_ sorry. _”_

She said it over and over, and it still didn’t feel like enough.

* * *

Winn sniffs loudly.

“Are you _crying?”_ James asks.

“Are you _not?!”_ Winn shouts indignantly.

James ignores him and addresses Alex. “So you’ve kind of always been trouble, huh?” He’s half serious.

Alex raises her bottle of beer, clearing her throat before taking a sip.

“…That’s one word for it,” she says once she places the bottle back on the table.

“I thought like. We were going to get _shenanigans_ and _hijinks,_ ” Winn’s voice is watery. “You totally sold this as _lighthearted_ and _fluffy.”_ Kara pats him on the back as he drowns his sorrows in beer. Or attempts to. Kara switches out the bottle with a can of Sprite.

Alex rolls her eyes at the display.

“I’m not _done_ yet,” she tells him.

Winn sniffs again, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“…What?”

“You think that was the _only_ thing Kara set on fire?”

* * *

Alex didn’t think she’d ever need to use the fire extinguisher again. The whole event had been traumatic enough that all involved were committed to never repeating it, either purposefully or accidentally.

“Did you borrow the CD player?”

It was weeks later, and Alex was making a conscious effort _not_ to make Kara’s life on Earth any more difficult than it already was. In fact, she was making an effort to lean into this 'older sibling’ thing.

“Yeah. Do you need it back?” Kara looked up from her English homework as she answered.

“If you’re not gonna use it,” Alex said, swiveling around in her desk chair. “I’ve got like. Five billion flash cards to get through.”

“I’ll get it,” Kara offered, dog-earing the page and swinging her legs off the bed. She stood on slightly unsteady feet, which was…odd. For Kara. Well. Some of the time. Kara wasn’t exactly what Alex would call _graceful._

Still, she watched her closely as she rummaged through her backpack and withdrew the portable  CD player in question. (Alex _really_ wanted an MP3 player, but she’d have to mow about fifty more lawns before that was even a _remote_ possibility.) When she brought it to the desk, Alex noticed that Kara looked kind of…flushed. Like. The way people sometimes looked after spending the day at the beach—just a little too much heat.

“…You okay?”

“…I dunno,” Kara frowned, still holding on to the CD player. “…I feel kinda. Weird?”

“You can’t get sick,” Alex felt weird herself reminding Kara of the fact. “…Did you eat lunch?”

“Yeah, I—” there was an audible crunch. They both looked down to see the plastic casing of the CD player cracked beneath Kara’s fingers.

But Kara was _barely_ holding the thing; Alex could tell.

Kara didn’t even apologize, she just stared at her hand, and the broken CD player.

Alex silently reached for a roll of duct tape she’d taken to keeping close by, for situations such as this.

“Here, let me,” she said, extracting the item from Kara’s (noticeably loose) grip. Kara let her take it, brow pinched with concern.

“I wasn’t…” she looked at her hand and made a fist. “…I didn’t even…”

“It’s not a big deal,” Alex told her, wrapping the exterior in a layer of tape. “You didn’t break the important stuff. It’ll still work.” She placed a CD inside and pressed 'play’ to illustrate her point. “…Well, okay, you broke the display so you can’t see the track number, but. Who needs that anyway?”

“You’ve got them all memorized,” Kara said by way of agreement. Alex grinned with pride.

“Well, _yeah.”_

This seemed to put her sister at ease. She returned to her bed, and copy of _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , flipping back to where she’d left off. “Did you guys really talk like this?”

“Guess so,” Alex said distractedly, mind already on the mountain of flash cards she needed to have finished and memorized before the test at the end of the week. She slid her headphones into place, finger poised above the 'play’ button once more.

“ _So weird,”_ Kara muttered. And Alex couldn’t see her face scrunch in concentration, couldn’t see her frustration build as she struggled with the words.

But Alex _could_ smell the smoke, once Kara burned through Titania’s monologue. Literally.

“ _I wasn’t even staring that hard!”_ Kara yelped as Alex stomped on the flaming book.

“Right,” Alex sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I swear!”

And it wasn’t until Eliza and Jeremiah came running in with the fire extinguisher that Alex actually entertained the notion that Kara might be telling the truth, because they came bearing an explanation.

“Sol—”

* * *

“Solar storm! Solar storm,” Winn bursts out, throwing his hands in the air. “A solar storm messed with Kara’s powers. Am I right? I’m right, right?”

James frowns.

“Dude. C'mon.”

“Way to ruin the flow, man,” Maggie says, nudging him in the side. Winn is undeterred by their ribbing, beaming proudly as he tucks his hands behind his head and props his feet on the coffee table. Until he removes them, catching a heated (figuratively, thank goodness) glare from Kara.

“You’re… _kiiiind_ of right,” Alex concedes.

“My powers were only affected because I was still new to the planet,” Kara explains. “Still adjusting? …Eliza could explain it better.”

“Gee, thanks, Kar,” Alex drawls.

“…And Alex too, I _guess_ ,” Kara teases her sister.

“So, TV, book, part of the yard,” James counts off the destroyed items on his fingers. “That’s an impressive list.”

“You can add 'Thanksgiving dinner,'” Alex tells him. James guffaws.

“You _didn’t,”_ he says.

Kara sighs.

“I did.”

* * *

Alex got straight A’s, an MP3 player, and her very own fire extinguisher that summer. The straight A’s earned the Zune, and the fire extinguisher was a gag gift more than anything else.

“You can keep it next to the duct tape,” her dad clearly did not expect her to take the advice seriously.

But she absolutely did.

She had quite the collection going, actually. She was tired of tearing apart the house any time there was a broken glass or a melted shoe. She liked having her tools close at hand.

At first, she kept them on the desk, where they could both grab them as needed.

But. They both needed the desk space for actual _desk_ stuff. Like homework. And, as the next school year started, the refurbished Mac their parents sprang for.

So Alex relocated the items to the cardboard box the computer came in, storing it under the desk for continued quick access.

As Kara’s control improved, accidents became fewer and farther between.

_Accidents._

Monitored experiments 'for science?’

Those started up in earnest, once Alex grew to appreciate the unique opportunity an alien sibling afforded.

“You think you could like,” Alex broached the subject one afternoon after school, “boil water with the heat vision?”

Kara considered this.

“I mean. I probably _could._ Yeah.”

“…We should check.”

Thus began a series of tests that resulted in melted silicone kitchenware, dented pots and pans, the complete re-wiring of the toaster, chiseling the blender from a block of ice, and more botched recipes than either Danvers sister could count.  

“I am… _thrilled_ that you girls are getting along,” Eliza said, pressing her palm to her temple. “But _get out of my kitchen.”_

They were forcibly evicted from the room, and did not set foot in it again until months later when, in a serious lapse in judgment, Eliza allowed them to return, pressed for time and dealing with surly in-laws.

“Kara,” It was Jeremiah who addressed her, as Eliza hurried to finish the green beans. “Do you think you could…” he trailed off and nodded towards the turkey, eyeing the door to the dining room, making sure none of the extended family were looking this way.

“Um,” Kara fidgeted. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.” He nodded firmly, even as Eliza glanced at them wearily over her shoulder. “A _little_ bit of heat vision; it’s just a little bit underdone.”

“This is a bad idea, _”_ Eliza fretted. “The last thing we need is your family coming in here and _seeing_ this and what if we all get radiation poisoning—?!”

“Hon, it’ll be _fine,”_ he assured his wife before turning to give Kara an encouraging thumbs up. “Right, kiddo?”

“…Sure hope so,” Kara tried to sound confident, and failed miserably. Of her powers, head vision was the most…startling? Difficult to gauge? She was getting the hang of it, but for more delicate tasks…such as reheating under-cooked turkey…well.

When the entire thing went up in flames (again, _literally_ ) Alex was right there with a cardboard box bearing the label: _KARA KIT_

She brandished her trusty fire extinguisher. “I got this.”

* * *

“There we go,” Winn nods, satisfied. “There’s the light and fluffy.”

“So we can open the box now, right?” James rubs his hands together. All eyes slide towards Kara, who has her head in her hands, face beet red from embarrassment.

“Yeah, yes. Go ahead,” she flaps a hand at the box. “I mean you guys  _already know_ so. _Why not._ ”

“I don’t know why _you’re_ embarrassed,” Alex says as the boys tear into the cardboard box. “I’m the one who had to _bare my soul_ and admit to being a horrible teenager.”

“ _Everyone_ was horrible as a teenager,” Kara argues.

“Mmm. Even on Mars,” M'gann chimes in. This prompts a laugh from the sisters…as well as the sudden, horrifying thought that, at some point, _J'onn_ had been a teenager.  A _child,_ even.

“Weird,” Alex mutters.

“ _So_ weird. _”_ Kara agrees.

“Oh-kay,” Winn says, pulling the items from the box. “We’ve got the extinguisher (of course) aaaaand, looks like duct tape and glue. Just like from the stories, guys.” He tilts his head to one side and gives the girls a saccharin smile. “Cute.”

“Oven mitts?”

“For handling super-heated baking sheets,” Alex says, leaning on the table.

“Is that a welding mask?” Winn asks. And then, “Wait, wait. Where does your heat vision fall on the visible light spectrum? …Should we all be wearing sunglasses for that?”

Maggie pushes past him and peers into the box, no longer content to sit on the sidelines. She wants in on this action. “A mirror,” she says, withdrawing the item in question. “Huh.”

James is the one who provides the explanation, surprisingly enough.

“It deflects heat vision,” he looks to Alex and Kara, who both nod. “Clark told us it’s how he shaves.” James mimes the gesture, for good measure, though the accuracy was questionable at best.

“Ooooh-kay” Maggie says, processing the mental image of Superman having to shave in the morning. And then, after thinking about disparate amounts of surface area the two Kryptonians have to deal with, she gives Kara a sympathetic look. “Oh, God, that must _suck.”_

And they’re all laughing now—even Kara, who’s still a little pink, but mostly past the initial self-consciousness.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“I’m not gonna ask about the bricks,” James says, still removing stuff from the box. “…Okay, no. I’m gonna ask about the bricks and. Is that a _leash?”_

A new round of laughter starts up. Kara buries her face in her hands, her momentary relief short-lived. She’s back to square one: complete and total humiliation.

Alex revels in it.

“Sleep-floating,” Alex says. “It’s a thing.”


End file.
